Wing-Walking

“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”

~ Havelock Ellis

There’s something called the Wing-Walker principle.

Often featured stunts in airshows of the past, wing-walkers were those daredevil folk willing to crawl out of the cockpit of an airborne biplane, and walk on the wing. Those watching from the ground, as well as the walker on the wing, knew that imminent death was a possibility.

The wing-walker principle, as explained to me, is that you never let go of one handhold until you have another one to grab on to. Makes good sense to me.

This same principle holds true on more than an airplane wing.

Life often feels as precarious as being out on an airplane wing, high above the ground, and the wind ready to blow you to kingdom come. There are times when it feels like you won’t survive, and that death is a real possibility if you can’t find something to hold onto.

When big change is upon us, what we’ve held onto in the past may not be able to sustain us where we are going, and In order to make our way forward, we have to find the next handhold.

Not the next ten.

Not even the next two.

Just the next thing to grab onto that will help us to hold steady in the gale force winds that threaten to push us off into thin air. That handhold could be the next phone call, decision, step, action, or piece of new information that will allow us to let go of the old, and begin to take hold of the new.

One handhold at a time, until we are again on solid ground.

Prop The Door Open

“To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation.”

~ from The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

This morning as I was working out in the little gym in town, I opened the door to let in the  gorgeous view of the fall colors in the distance, some fresh autumn air, and a little more light. I was facing the door while lifting some weights, when a slight breeze picked up outside, and the door slowly and quietly began to shut. It stopped about two-thirds of the way, leaving only a third of the view, fresh air, and light.

I’d forgotten to prop it open with a rock.

It is safe to say that while I am squarely in the third-third of my life, there is still a lot out there that is mine to do. More words to write, more retreats to lead, more stages from which to speak, more clients to coach, more work on which to collaborate, more adventures with the love of my life, more time with the “littles” in our family, more time with those I love, and, more to discover every step of the way.

In order to make good on what is still mine to do, I have to keep the door to whatever that is open.

So do you.

An open door keeps our vision in front of us, breathes fresh air into our work, and shines light on our steps. But the door won’t stay open of its own accord. We have to prop it open with our rock-solid commitment to pursuing the good work to which we are called, the authentic, whole-hearted lives that we are here to live, and the people whose hearts we are here to love and to touch.

The door to the life that is ours can begin to close, ever so slowly and quietly, if we don’t remember to prop it open with a rock.

Safe Is Overrated

  “Well, we are safe, even as we are as vulnerable as kittens,  because love, the riskiest thing we do, makes us safe.”

~ Anne Lamott, from her new book: Almost Everything

In C.S. Lewis’s classic, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the Pevensie children find themselves in the magical land of Narnia after stepping through a door in the back of a wardrobe that is stored in an attic. Once there, they learn of Aslan, who is anything but a vulnerable little kitten. He is the fierce, gigantic, talking lion known as the King of Narnia, the King of Beasts, the Lord of the Wood, and son of the great Emperor-Beyond-The Sea.* He is powerful, wise, kind, just, and loving. All of those on the wrong side of all that he stands for fear him, as rightly they should. All of those who seek to stand on the same side of all that he stands for fear him, as rightly they should. He is, after all, the King of Narnia, King of Beasts, Lord of the Wood, and son of the great Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea.

Susan, the middle child of the four Pevensie siblings, has heard much of Aslan, but has yet to meet him. She has heard only of all the good that the powerful Aslan has done, and will do, and is excited at the prospect of meeting him. And, as you might imagine if you were going to meet a fierce, gigantic, talking Lion who reigns over all, you might be a tad bit nervous too. Hoping to allay her fears, she has a conversation with her new friend, Mr. Beaver. 

“Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion"..."Safe?" said Mr Beaver ..."Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.”

Safe is overrated.  

Being true to your convictions isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Speaking your mind isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Adventures aren’t safe. But they’re good. 

Curiosity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Creativity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Meaningful work isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Authenticity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Vulnerability isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Hard conversations aren’t safe. But they’re good.

Asking for help isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

Raising your hand in a meeting isn’t safe. But it’s good.

Reaching across the aisle isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Speaking truth to power isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

Asking for forgiveness isn’t safe. But it’s good.

Extending forgiveness isn’t safe. But it’s good.

And above all else... 

Love isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

When we go for safe, we will never get the chance to walk through the door in the back of a wardrobe that is stored in an attic, and find ourselves in a magical land. Not to mention the possibility of meeting a fierce, giagantic, talking lion. 

I’ll take good over safe any day.  

  

* shmoop

To-Do or Not-To-Do?

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

~ Annie Dillard

I’m a great list maker. Lists are my secret to success in a lot of areas:

• Getting ready for a dinner party list

• Packing for a trip list

• Planning a wedding/birthday bash/ family reunion list

• Costco/Trader Joes/New Seasons/Target run list

• Christmas shopping list

• Preparing for a keynote address or retreat list

• Book off to the publisher list

• Cleaning the garage list

• Whatever-needs-doing-getting-done list

As you can tell, I love me a good list. Which is why I was intrigued by Dane Anthony’s recent essay to consider making a new kind of list. A To-NOT-Do list.

While the name of the list alone was enough to pique my interest, the name of the person who wrote it sealed the deal. Dane has a Spiritual Direction practice in which he seeks to create a peaceful and safe space for the soul to emerge, which he does by listening without agenda. Having engaged him as my Spiritual Director, I can tell you that this is exactly what he does. He is one of the most gifted listeners I’ve ever met, and because I’ve come to deeply trust him and our work together, I decided to trust in the wisdom of creating my own To-NOT- Do List. Dane’s work is rooted in the belief that we are meant to live an undivided life, with ourselves, others and God, and if making a To-NOT-Do List can help me get a little closer to that…well then sign me up.

Here are a few things that showed up on my To-NOT-Do List as soon as my pen hit the page:

• Be complacent

• Settle

• Wake up and check ANY of my devices until after my morning ritual of quiet, reading,

  meditation, AND of course, my first sacred cup of French press coffee

• Get lost in the menial at the expense of the meaningful

• React out of fear

• Make it all about me

If you are intrigued by the idea of a new kind of list too, read Dane’s thoughtful post below, and then see what words come out when your pen hits the page.

(Oh, and if you are intrigued by the idea of pursuing a Spiritual Director…think about putting that on your To-DO List.)

---

A To-Not-Do List

DANE ANTHONY //SELF CARE//10.03.18

I was taken recently by the question of what my “To-Do” lists really do for me? I’ve made them and crossed things off for years. There are seasons in which these seemingly helpful lists prove a profitable exercise; a place to deposit the endless undone things I must attend to. Certainly, they can be helpful in acknowledging things that are necessary and need my attention. In other seasons, these lists, or at least the propensity to create them, feel more like a perpetual exercise in all the things that are undone. It is as if they are frantically waving their arms to point to what I’m not accomplishing.  

What do my “To-Do” lists really do for me?

In conversation with someone the other day, I came to consider what would it be like to make a “To-NOT-Do” list – a list of the things I do not need to be doing. What on earth would a list like that contain? Might this list be one that offers me some needed permission to care for myself; to see myself as more than what I accomplish or cross off? Am I able to allow or consider things I don’t want to do apart from my inclination to be productive? Can I approach this list without a shame-motivation but from a desire for space and freedom and creativity?

Might this list be one that offers me some needed permission to care for myself; to see myself as more than what I accomplish or cross off?

A quick flash of what this list would look like might be something like:

To-NOT-Do:

Worry
Stress
Hurry
Be Co-dependent
Meddle
Judge
Rage
Argue

I don’t know what this would look like for you, but my list came to me pretty quickly, so I’m aware of my need for the gifts that not doing each of them would offer. It also seemed that I could find a lot of other things to put on this list that don’t appear here. What has kept me from making a list like this, I wondered?

It seems that the messages we receive culturally, and those we create internally, are often driven by shame that we need to accomplish or perform to be accepted, to be worthy, to be enough. 

It seems that the messages we receive culturally, and those we create internally, are often driven by shame that we need to accomplish or perform to be accepted, to be worthy, to be enough. That sure feels true for me when I look at my “To-Do” lists. I do NOT sense that when I look at my “To-NOT-Do” list above. This list feels like it has kindness present in it; an open space for me to engage with my desires and intentions, and with others as they are.

What might you have on your own “To-NOT-Do” list?

Keeping The Faith

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

~ Hebrews 11:1

Fifteen miles as the crow flies, out in front of our home, sits Mt. Adams, a 12,281 ft. high volcano in the Cascade Mountains of Washington State. It was the mountain that first drew us to this piece of land, and the day that we decided to stake our claim here, the mountain was out in all of its glory. I knew then, as I have every day since that I would never, ever take for granted this beautiful place in which live.

We built our home to maximize the view of the mountain, and almost without fail, when someone visits our home for the first time, they walk in, and if the sky is clear and the mountain in full view, their first words are something to the effect of “Wow! Look at that. Did you plan your house so that you could have that view?”

Ummm…Yes.

But for me, it is about so much more than a spectacular view. The mountain is a daily reminder of my daily need for faith.

You see, there are days when the mountain is shrouded in clouds, and not visible at all from morning till night.

On those days I have to remember, that even when I can’t see the mountain, the mountain is still there.

There are other days when the mountain is partly hidden behind the clouds that blow through our valley.

On those days I have to remember, that even when I can’t see all of the mountain, the mountain is still all there.

This past summer, with fires raging to both the north and south, it was hidden for days on end behind the terrible, suffocating smoke.

On those days I have to remember, that even when I can’t see the mountain, the mountain is still there.

Every day I am in need of faith. And at this particular time in our world, I am in need of it more than ever.

Faith in the creator, and in creation itself.

Faith in the triumph of love over fear, and good over evil.

Faith in humanity, and in myself.

Faith to keep going when I feel like giving up.

Faith to keep writing when the words don’t come easy.

Faith to show up as myself when tempted to hide behind my own wall.

Faith to speak up when it would be easier to stay silent.

Faith to keep putting my work out there when I’d rather play it safe.

While it may be true that faith can move a mountain, I’ve learned that a mountain can move me to have faith. Because even when I can’t see the mountain, I know that the mountain is still there.

Where The Buck Stops

“Let us not seek to fix the blame for the past. Let us accept our own responsibility for the future.”

` John F. Kennedy

Oh, it is so easy to blame someone else for our troubles. To find fault elsewhere. To see cause that is outside of our own agency. To pass the buck.

When a problem with a relationship arises, it is often easier for me to see what the other person did to create it, than look for what part I might have played. If something doesn’t turn out the way I expected, I’m tempted to turn over every other rock to find the cause except the one laying at my feet. If I don’t get what I thought I paid for, I can be quick to demand a refund and slow to consider that perhaps I didn’t do my homework before pulling out my credit card.

Whether it is an issue in a relationship, a breakdown in communication, a lack of clarity around expectations, or a disappointing result, if I am willing to look closely, I can almost always find what role, no matter how small, I might have played in the way things turned out. When I take ownership for what is mine, there is almost always something I can do to address the situation. When I allow the buck to stop at my desk before moving on, it allows me to look for ways that I can take action to help resolve the conflict, bring closure, clear the air, extend forgiveness, offer an apology, bring clarity, open a door, resolve the problem, or change the outcome.

I’m not saying that others aren’t culpable for their part of the bargain.

They are.

So am I.

Viborg Cathedral - Viborg, Denmark

What If It Didn’t Have To Look Like That?

 “Find that far inward symmetry to                                                                                

all outward appearances, apprentice

 yourself to yourself, begin to welcome back

all you sent away, be a new annunciation,

make yourself a door through which

to be hospitable, even to the stranger in you.”

David Whyte 

One of my greatest needs is for time and space to myself, by myself, and for myself. It is the water that quenches my thirsty soul, and the food that feeds my hungry heart. And, it is what helps me not to be a total, selfish...well, you know what I mean.

But what if it didn’t have to look like that? 

In my perfect little world, time and space to myself, for myself, and by myself, means whole days at a time with no one else around. It means the chance to chart my own course, bide my own time, and march to the beat of my own drum. When I’ve had one or two of those days in a given week, I can be a pretty nice girl to be around. When I haven’t? Well, not so much.   

But what if it didn’t have to look like that? 

These past two plus weeks in Germany and Denmark, by my calculation, I’ve had a total of one hour to myself, for myself, and by myself. The good news? There were days when I never had to apologize to Tom. The other news? On some days I did. More than once. 

But what if it didn’t have to look like that? 

Maybe it doesn’t.  

Maybe generosity and grace are almost always within reach.

Maybe being good company is almost always an option.

Maybe setting aside my needs is almost always a possibility.

With time and space to myself, for myself, and by myself, I can almost always choose to extend generosity and grace, be good company, and set aside my own needs. Without that time and space to, for, and by myself. Well, not so much.

But what if it didn’t have to look like that? 

Maybe it doesn’t. 

This morning, we enjoyed another lovely breakfast in a little nook off the kitchen and in the shadow of the village church. For the past week our host, Birthe, has extended generosity and grace, been good company, and set aside her own needs. For us. For me.

After breakast, I offered to do the dishes so that Tom and Birthe could go into her delightful sitting room and wander through old pictures and letters from his time here years ago.

In case it’s not completely obvious, this was not an entirely altruistic offer. 

We all have our own unique ways of keeping our best selves in tact. The one that can extend generosity and grace, be good company, and set our own needs aside. Understanding what it takes for that person to show up in the morning, ready for another day, is important information. Cultivating the practices that attend to those needs is our individual and necessary work.

But.

When life takes a temporary turn that makes tending to those needs, in just the way we like, difficult, if not impossible, it’s easy to ignore the better angels of our nature, who are always at the ready, and capitulate instead to their evil twins, who also seem to be always at the ready. 

But what if it didn’t have to look like that?

Actually, it doesn’t.

Sit Down and Rest

 “God saw all that He had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning--the sixth day...By the seventh day God had finished the work He had been doing; so on the seventh day He rested from all his work.”

~ Genesis 1:31 & 2:2

When I stepped into the atrium of the Glyptoteket (an art museum in Copenhagen, which, incidentally, is funded by the Carlsberg Foundation - as in the beer) the space took my breath away. There was something about it that made it impossible for me to do anything but sit down, and rest. 

We eventually continued our tour of the museum, lingering in front of sculptures from the ancient world. But that atrium space kept calling me back. To sit down, and rest. The air was soft, the light gentle, and the temperature warm and cool all at once. It felt like sitting in the midst of God’s newly created world. The world that was proclaimed good. Very good in fact. The one in which to remember to sit down, and rest.

In the Biblical story of creation, God brings the world into being, creating the heavens, the earth, and everything in them. As She looked over His work at the end of each day, She would proclaim it good. Very good in fact. And then...and then...on the seventh day, He does the unthinkable...She sits down (taking a little literary license here) and rests. 

We are all tiny little creators, bringing our own worlds into being. Like the creator, we work to create the world in which we live. But unlike the creator, we often forget to look out over our work and proclaim it good. Very good in fact. Also unlke the creator, we forget to sit down, (same license taken here) and rest. 

Sitting in that atrium, I was reminded of my desire to do good work. To work hard at doing work worthy of being called good. Very good in fact. The kind of work after which it feels good to sit down, and rest.

Very good work.

Followed by rest.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be. World without end. Amen.

More Than A Thousand Words

Do you ever feel like this?

Yeah. Me too. 

Remembering Our Affection For One Another

"But, we have always had so much more in common with each other than in disagreement."

Senator John McCain

Recently, during a conversation about our deeply divided country, and the concern we share for its future, a friend said something I haven't been able to forget: 

"We need to remember our affection for one another."

Those words resonated deeply, and they continue to reverberate in my heart like an echo off of the walls of a deep canyon. They ring as words of a distant truth that we once knew, but are in danger of forgetting.

"We need to remember our affection for one another."

As citizens, it seems we are increasingly choosing to stand on opposite sides of a deep canyon, shouting across the widening chasm at one another. I wonder, if we stopped shouting, and bent our ears to the canyon edge, might we hear the distant echos of our shared affection for one another? 

"We need to remember our affection for one another."

While I never voted for him, and I often disagreed with his perspectives, I've always felt a deep respect for Senator John McCain. I felt a kinship with him as a fellow American, and I am saddened that his fierce spirt has left the earth. But I imagine if I were to bend my ear close to the edge of the canyon, I would hear his words ringing back...

"My fellow Americans, we need to remember our affection for one another."

I offer this post in honor of and in gratitude for Senator John McCain, and am humbled and inspired by his final words below. 

A final statement from Sen. John McCain, who died Saturday at 81, read by his spokesman Rick Davis:

"My fellow Americans, whom I have gratefully served for 60 years, and especially my fellow Arizonians, thank you for the privilege of serving you and for the rewarding life that service in uniform and in public office has allowed me to lead. I've tried to serve our country honorably. I've made mistakes, but I hope my love for America will be weighed favorably against them. I've often observed that I am the luckiest person on Earth. I feel that way even now as I prepare for the end of my life. I've loved my life, all of it. 

I've had experiences, adventures, friendships enough for ten satisfying lives and I am so thankful. Like most people, I have regrets but I would not trade a day of my life in good or bad times for the best day of anybody else's. I owe the satisfaction to the love of my family. One man has never had a more loving wife or children he was prouder of than I am of mine. And I owe it to America to be connected with America's causes, liberty, equal justice, respect for the dignity of all people brings happiness more sublime that life's fleeting pleasures. Our identities and sense of worth are not circumscribed but are enlarged by serving good causes bigger than ourselves. 

Fellow Americans, that association has meant more to me than any other. I lived and died a proud American. We are citizens of the world's greatest republic. A nation of ideals, not blood and soil. We are blessed and a blessing to humanity when we uphold and advance those ideals at home and in the world. We have helped liberate more people from tyranny and poverty than ever before in history. We have acquired great wealth and power in the progress. We weaken our greatness when we confuse our patriotism with rivalries that have sown resentment and hatred and violence in all the corners of the globe. We weaken it when we hide behind walls rather than tear them down, when we doubt the power of our ideals rather than trust them to be the great force for change they have always been. We are 325 million opinionated, vociferous individuals. We argue and compete and sometimes even vilify each other in our raucous public debates. 

But, we have always had so much more in common with each other than in disagreement. If only we remember that and give each other the benefit of the presumption that we all love our country, we'll get through these challenging times. We will come through them stronger than before. We always do. Ten years ago, I had the privilege to concede defeat in the election for president. I want to end my farewell to you with heartfelt faith in Americans that I felt so powerfully that evening. I feel it powerfully still. Do not despair of our present difficulties, we believe always in the promise and greatness of America because nothing is inevitable here. Americans never quit, we never surrender, we never hide from history, we make history. Farewell fellow Americans. God bless you and god bless America." 

POLITICO

"We need to remember our affection for one another."